


The Body is Merciless in Its Pining

by Dr_Madwoman



Category: A Song of Ice and Fire - George R. R. Martin, Game of Thrones (TV)
Genre: Angst, F/F, Fluff, Leaving, Long Distance Relationship, Lysa reluctantly runs the Vale, More angst, Secret Marriage, Selyse is a wannabe priestess, Stannis would pray for patience if he believed in gods, Team Dragonstone takes the Throne, Until it isn't, as God intended, domestic life, ladies in love being dorks, lesbians run Westeros more at 11, returning
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-06-17
Updated: 2015-06-16
Packaged: 2018-04-04 18:59:37
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,555
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4149222
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Dr_Madwoman/pseuds/Dr_Madwoman
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Their lives are defined by moments of leave-taking and moments of home-coming.</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Body is Merciless in Its Pining

Selyse woke before dawn and lay staring into the rafters of her chamber, trying to put herself in order. There was pain behind her ribs that went beyond sinew and blood, and she worked at it in her mind until it grew less; she listed to herself the dangers of the storm season and of the ships lost and broken at the bottom of the sea.

It must come and so must be borne, she told herself, and finally rose from her bed.

By the light of a few candles and the gray promise of dawn Selyse dressed herself without the help of her maids. She chose a gown of blue, to please Lysa, but it was a blue dark as the horizon just after the sun has set, and she wore it like a woman mourning. Her hair she left down, without even bothering to tie in her braids for marriage and motherhood, and it made her feel like a girl again.

Selyse left her chambers and wound her way through the heart of the Stone Drum, readying herself to send her heart over the wild sea.

The Vale entourage was already gathered in the stable yard when Selyse arrived, the knights stamping in the morning chill as the servants capered like trained beasts, securing trunks and loading the pack animals. It was Ser Vardis who saw her first, and he bowed; his comrades followed after, gallant as a harper's song, save for the bleary emptiness of their eyes. She noticed that none but Vardis looked at her, and wondered if she wore the grief so plainly.

She did not speak, and they all waited in the retreating darkness for the Lady of the Vale to arrive. Selyse stood tall and stared into the embers of the nearest brazier, trying and failing to banish the iron-cold presence of sorrow. She forced her mind to be still and consider nothing, but the sullen light of the fire was blurring, and her throat was tight.

A sudden stirring from the gathered knights drew her attention away, and Selyse turned her head in time to see her love come quietly forth from the Stone Drum, carrying the boy in her arms. Lysa was pale, and her eyes were red with much weeping, but the new light shone on her hair and made it banner-bright, and when she looked out over her company her smile was for Selyse alone.

Of it's own accord Selyse's hand came up to rest over her heart, and its twin twisted in her skirts.

In the same moment Selyse and Lysa crossed the yard and met before the assembled host, ending with but an arm's length between them. Selyse looked long into Lysa's face and filled herself with the sight of her eyes and lashes and lips, the pale brow and radiant hair, as though seeking a last sight of the native shore before a long journey. For her part, Lysa shifted little Robert in her arms and canted her head to the side in that birdlike way, the corners of her mouth twitching bravely up.

"Shireen slept at last, I trust?"

"Yes."

Shireen had cried herself hoarse when told that Lysa and Robert would be leaving, and Selyse had found a welcome distraction in gentling her daughter into sleep. There was no distraction now, and Selyse touched the boy's hair of a sudden, for something to do. Robert grunted sleepily and burrowed against his mother's shoulder, small fists wound tightly in her cloak.

"At least he is at ease." Selyse said, and Lysa forced a laugh.

"He is two, and entirely heartless. I'm sure he'll be quite devastated when he realizes you are not there to sing for him."

Selyse rather doubted that, and did not much care in any case. The conversation faltered, failed, and Lysa fidgeted, feeling a hundred eyes on them. Selyse bit her lip and dared another step closer, catching the scent of Lysa's favorite bath oil and shuddering. She reached out and Lysa immediately took her hand, her mask falling. In her smallest voice, she spoke the words in Selyse's heart.

"What am I to do without you?"

Selyse bit the inside of her cheek hard enough to draw blood and thought of that pain only, forcing herself to do what was needful.

"We each have our duty." she said. She wanted so badly to ask Lysa to stay for another week, another fortnight, until the storms made sea passage impossible and Selyse could have her for the season. Lysa would agree, without hesitation.

"There is no joy for me in the Eyrie. Only here."

Please, please do not say such things.

Her eyes stinging, Selyse leaned down at last and wrapped her arms around Lysa, the boy between them. She held them both tightly, until Robert squirmed in protest. Lysa leaned back and crooned to him, her eyes so soft. Wordlessly she beckoned Ser Vardis over, and carefully handed her son into his great brown hands.

"Keep him warm, Vardis, else I shall have your tongue cut out."

"Rightly so, my Lady." Ser Vardis said, and he bundled the fussing lordling in his cloak like a man born to handling babes. Lysa watched him return to his position among his men and then she was in Selyse's arms again, hair and flesh and shuddering breath pressed hard to her, her arms strong as iron around her back. Selyse stumbled, caught them both before she overbalanced, buried her face in the curve of Lysa's neck to hide the tears that threatened.

Unseemly. What would Mother say?

Selyse remained hidden and held on to Lysa, trying to think the tears away so that she could show herself again. Lysa was shaking in her arms, her breath coming in miserable whimpers, and Selyse wanted to beg her to stop. She had to say something to hold off Lysa's weeping, something they could both hold like a talisman.

"Lysa."

Do not leave me.

Lysa's hand moved up from between Selyse's shoulders and delved deep into the fall of her hair, holding fast.

"What is it?" she whispered. Selyse swallowed hard, too cowardly to say what needed saying. She was forward in all things, it was in her nature to be so, yet she could not say the words.

"I had a dream." she said, hoping that Lysa would understand. "We were riding on a single horse, you and I. A white mare. She never got tired, and nor did we."

Just you and I and and a silver plain with no end.

"I hope you held the reigns, not I." Lysa said, and Selyse was not sure if she had taken Selyse's meaning. She hoped she had, and nuzzled into Lysa's shoulder. Hers, and yet not. Near, and yet untouchable. Perhaps Queen Cersei had the right of it, in wishing herself a man.

"My lady."

It was a man's voice that cut into her mind, took her from thoughts of stealing a horse and then stealing the Lady of the Vale. Selyse raised her head from its haven and found Ser Vardis standing by, the boy asleep in his cloak. He looked almost apologetic, and Selyse wondered if he was pitying her. The thought rankled.

"My lady, it is time. The fleet is awaiting us."

Lysa looked at him with the eyes of someone who has been betrayed, and nodded. There was desperation in her when she turned back to Selyse, and her hands shook when she raised them to cradle Selyse's face.

"I wish I could kiss you now."

Her eyes were very wide, the blue of still lakes, and Selyse was horrified when Lysa leaned up toward her. She flinched from her, took Lysa by the wrists and stepped back.

"Not here. Not where they can see."

She could not raise her eyes to see Lysa's expression. There was a cold silence between them, and Selyse kept her eyes trained on the mud beneath their feet. Lysa took her hand again, forgiving her.

"Farewell, Lady Baratheon. Until we meet again."

Do not leave me!

Selyse gripped Lysa's hand in hers with all the strength she had and raised their twinned fingers to her lips. She kissed them, quickly, a last denial of what was coming.

"Journey safely, Lady Arryn."

And then she let her go. Released her hand and retreated into the doorway of the Stone Drum, forcing herself to smile and accept the salute of the Vale knights. She watched as Lysa and her son were helped into the waiting wheelhouse. She watched as the great escort at last began its homeward journey, the men shining on their proud horses, the banners of house Arryn flying high on the sea breeze. It took a long time for the lot of them to leave Dragonstone's stable yard, and Selyse stood to witness all of it.

In time the yard stood empty, and Selyse turned her back on the silence. She climbed the first staircase she found, heedless of where it would lead her, but did not make it far. Her chest was filled with lead, and she hadn't the strength to mount the next step. Selyse sank down upon the stairs, and she lowered her head into hands that shook.

There in the darkness, Selyse wept at last.

**Author's Note:**

> Three-shot fic mainly from Selyse's POV, title is taken from Melissa Range poem 'September Trees'. Lots of thwarted desire and heartbreak and thirst.


End file.
